Blink and You're Donna
by FlapperSlapper
Summary: Besides lounging around the spa, what else did Donna Noble do during Midnight? Oh, not much. Just admired the hotel's special art display - including a pretty lame angel statue.
1. Prologue

Mint chocolate chip ice cream.

After flipping through a grand total of eleven women's magazines, Donna was experiencing a rather intense degree of second-hand hunger for all the insanely skinny models, and all she could think about was rolling her tongue all over a nice big bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. A cone would be also be perfectly acceptable – as long as it could hold a ridiculously large scoop or two…or six. Or eighteen.

But, did this planet even _have_ ice cream? She reasoned that it most certainly should, seeing as the land was called Midnight, and everyone knows that frozen dairy desserts make the perfect midnight snack. Well, everyone from Donna's century anyway. Maybe twenty-seventh century folks munched exclusively on healthy, organic-y things - like sugar-free gelatin or dried apple slices.

However, Donna was slowly becoming an optimist, so she decided to leave the hotel's spa in search of a frozen fix. Perhaps the concierge would know where to direct her.

On the way to the lobby, Donna got a bit sidetracked by a grand hallway display of modern art. There was a 3-D watermelon-scented painting, a 4555-carat diamond headband, a full-size wax replica of a Hippogriff, and even a translucent sand castle. After scratching the abs of a scratch-and-sniff Jude Law (the XXXVII) wax figure, Donna turned around and came face-to-face with a piece of art that she could have sworn had magically appeared: a stone creation of an angel.

Donna stared at it, perplexed by this particular piece of "art". Puh-lease - an angel statue? Why would _that_ belong amongst the grandiose display? Those were in twenty-first century gardens everywhere. No more impressive than a gnome. L-A-M-E.

Donna Noble suddenly felt quite bored. So, she blinked.


	2. Chapter 1

Meanwhile, Donna Noble was harassing the Doctor for a strawberry milkshake.

"Please." She poked a finger at his shoulder, careful not to apply too much pressure and deflate his stick-thin body. "Please, please, pleeease?" she poked different parts of his shoulder. "It would get the taste out of our mouths!"

They had just escaped into the TARDIS from the planet Phalange, in the Regina galaxy. Inhabited by furry pink humanoids with two curly tongues per mouth, they were forced to dine on "lobster pudding" - considered an ordinary snack there. Needless to say, Donna hadn't enjoyed the combination of overly sweetened vanilla and fried crustaceans.

"What – the _lobs-ding_? Ah, I didn't think it was all bad. Certainly better than peaches." The Doctor pulled at his ear. "But tell you what: let's go to Disney – the planet, not the theme park. They make some brilliant hot cocoa in the thirty-third century. Marshmallows the size of your tongue!"

Hmm. The offer did sound rather tempting to Donna. A planet named Disney? Maybe every guy would like look Prince Charming, and the TARDIS would translate all her speech into a catchy musical. Heck, with her ginger hair, perhaps Donna could even fool the Disney-ans into believing that she was a direct descendant of Princess Ariel.

But nope, Donna would not give in to the enticing offer; she knew precisely where and what year they had to go to.

"Maybe afterwards," she told the Doctor. "But right now I just really want a strawberry milkshake from say, oh -" she pretended to randomly pull a place and time out of thin air " – 1959, Hollywood, California."

"Why 1959 Hollywood?" The Doctor glanced at her sideways. "Certain celebrity you hoping to spot there?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just figured that'll be a place to get a really good milkshake."

The Doctor signed. "Fine. Fine. But before we go to Disney, we're stopping at 1742 Chiquita. Some exceptional bananas grown there."

The TARDIS materialized a few minutes later, and before they exited, Donna innocently asked if the wardrobe had any 1950s-America-style clothing – even though she knew it did.

"'Course it does," the Doctor answered. "Just don't wear the humongous pearl necklace. It's very precious. Marilynn Monroe gave me that necklace."

Donna nodded politely, and picked out a puffy, light blue skirt, a simple white blouse and a pair of feminine white trainers. She then searched the jewelry box for a "humongous pearl necklace" and clasped it around her neck. The weight hurt her shoulders a bit, but when else would she get to wear Marilynn bloody Monroe's jewelry? She didn't  
exactly consider herself a fashionista nor a materialist, but boy, she loved all the historical clothing she had worn on their travels.

"Hey! What did I saw about the necklace?" said the Doctor, once Donna reappeared in the console room.

"Oi, and where'd your jacket come from?" She raised an eyebrow at the white leather.

The Doctor shuffled his feet. "Definitely not Elvis Presley."

"'Course not."

"Fine, fine. Wear the necklace then. You do look lovely! Let's get ourselves some milkshakes, shall we?" He held out his arm, which Donna gladly took, and the pair stepped outside the TARDIS.

* * *

One second, Donna Noble was standing in the lobby of alien planet - bored by a fascinatingly mundane piece of art work - and the next, she was seeing stars. Well, she saw just one star. Literally.

Okay, fine. Did a celebrity "star" mean that it was literal or figurative? Bleh. No matter. She was a temp, not a grammar expert. Either way, the man extending his hand to help her off the ground sure looked like a younger version of a celebrity whose name she couldn't quite place.

"You alright there, little lady?" he asked in a rough American accent. "You appeared outta nowhere. Must have been runnin' somewhere purdy fast."

"Uh," was Donna's eloquent response, as she accepted his hand and stood up.

She looked around. They appeared to be in a small alley – mostly vacant of people, and occupied by rundown shops. She squinted at the store signs. English. Definitely English. Not that it meant much if the TARDIS was still inside her head.

"Where…uh, when…how?" Donna questioned the possibly-a-celebrity stranger, who was still holding onto her elbow.

"Did you get a concussion?" he asked. "Didn't see your fall, but it musta been bad by the way you talkin'."

Donna put a hand to her head. She didn't have the world's most perfectly smooth skull, but she felt no extra bumps. And her memory was fine; she knew it was fine. She perfectly remembered lounging around planet Midnight and craving mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Oh, ice cream! She still craved her ice cream. So this _definitely_ was not another alternative-reality dream-world place-thing inside in a planet-sized library. In the library world, she had rarely thought about food. And whenever she did, after just a split second of thought, she'd magically find herself consuming a perfect recipe of that food item. No, this world was absolutely real.

She looked back to the friendly stranger. "Where am I?"

The guy chuckled, showing deep dimples. "You're in front of _Goldie's_." He pointed to the sign of a dilapidated clothing store.

"Yeah…" She could tell this wasn't going to be easy. The man wore far too much hair gel to be intelligent. "And where exactly is that? Like what –"

"Street? Shadowood, one block off a 9th." He looked closer at her, leering a bit too much. "Ya lost? I can give you a lift home." He pointed a few meters down, to where a motorcycle was parked. "It'd be a pleasure for a lovely lady like you."

Donna smiled back, trying not to anger a man that could still possibly be an alien. (It was an inhumane amount of hair gel.) "No, I mean – " Gah, she felt like an idiot, " – What planet? City? Year?"

He chuckled again. "Boy, I like a jokester. Okay, from lookin' at your gorgeous face, let's say this is Heaven. City of angels. Year's irrelevant."

Right. So, an alien with appallingly bad flirting skills. Donna looked down the alley and pointed out a dark blob-shaped thing, probably a trash bin. "Oh look, there's my big, muscular friend! Must have just finished teaching his top-level Combat class. He'll give me a ride home!" She waved at the blob-shaped thing and yelled out to it. "Hello, Charles! Coming right over!"

She turned back to Se_ñ_ior Hair Gel. "Thanks for the offer anyway."

Then, Donna did something she had done nearly every day with the Doctor – she ran.

Donna Noble sprinted past store after rundown store, passing surprisingly few people, several overflowing trash bins and one stray cat. Still in her white terrycloth robe from the Midnight spa, she felt a bit like a super-hero, as the wind made the robe fly out behind her. Thank goodness she had insisted on wearing a t-shirt and shorts underneath it; she didn't need the city of Wherever-The-Bloody-Hell-She-Was to get a free show.

Donna continued running so fast down the narrow alleyway (while thinking so hard about the wonder of stretch-waist shorts and her own ability to run in plastic sandals), that when she turned her head to look behind for just a second, she didn't notice the slight curve of the alley - and the solid glass wall that stood just a few meters in front of her path.

But Donna Noble was evidently having a lucky day, (well, except for the whole involuntary-and-instantaneous-travelling-to-a-infuratingly-unknown-location deal), because she turned back around and stopped running just in time to _not_ experience death-by-glass-wall-collision.

Then, she looked into the glass and blinked again. It appeared to be the window of a 1950s-style diner. Plush hot pink booths lined the walls, wait staff scooted about on roller-skates, and a few couples (who looked like extras from the film _Grease_) danced around a giant jukebox. There was also an obnoxiously large neon clock, a black-and-white checkered floor, a man waving at her and mouthing "Donna", a bar overflowing with burgers and drinks, decorative vinyl records…

WAIT. What was that third one? Donna scrunched her eyes and looked to a booth in the left corner. Yup, there was definitely a man there, calling out for her. He was too skinny, had crazy brown hair that clearly didn't need any gel to give it volume, and was wearing…ew, was that a white leather jacket?

Donna bolted to the diner's door, thrust it open and ran over to the Doctor. She hugged him. Filled with relief that he was here too, she hugged him so hard. And then, she slapped him – even harder than the hug.

"WHAT kind of silly little game are you playing with me?" she asked.

The Doctor just rolled his eyes. "Relax, Donna. I did as you said; I didn't order for you."

"DIDN'T…ORDER?" She slid into the seat next to him and thrust her head closer. "…WHAT?"

The Doctor looked utterly perplexed and even a bit frightened – as if a peaceful dog had suddenly started barking violently at him. He sunk low into his seat and spoke quietly. "Your milkshake. I…I didn't order…your milkshake. Just ordered some chips for myself. And –" His eyes flickered over her. "Why did you change clothes? Where'd that robe come from?"

"They gave me these clothes at the spa…?" she responded, nearly a question. Donna knew that she didn't have a concussion, but maybe the Doctor did…if Time Lords could even get those.

"And what were you doing outside?" the Doctor asked. "I thought you just needed to use the restroom. They have one in the diner, ya know, Donna."

"They did," came a voice that wasn't from Donna's own lips. But the voice _did_ sound remarkably like her own. She whipped her head around and saw…

WHAT.

"WHAT?" said the Doctor.

"WHAT?" said Donna.

"SURPRIIIISE!" said a woman, who looked exactly like Donna in every possible way, but wore a humongous pearl necklace.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is really just a transitional chapter. The action picks up much more in the next one! I should have that up within a few days. **

* * *

Donna stared at her apparent body double.

The body double stared back, but with a huge grin. The Doctor stared back and forth at the two, but with some ear-pulling. The rest of the diner's occupants stared at the three, but with a lot of shushing.

Donna felt as if Sandy and Danny from _Grease _had stopped their hand-jiving to gaze into her living room.

She was about to let out another "WHAT?" to echo the three "whats?" the Doctor had just performed, when the bright light of his sonic screwdriver was shone into her left eye, half-blinding her.

"Name yourself! Planet of origin. Galactic coordinates. Species designation, according to the universal ratification of the Shadow Proclamation!"

"Donna Noble! Earth! The solar system and all that…haven't we been over this? And you well know I'm human!" she shouted at the Doctor, not caring about the diner audience, and hoping that her sheer volume would scare away the screwdriver light.

But the Doctor just switched the sonic screwdriver over to her right eye. "You've stolen the form of my friend Donna. She's only a human. I demand you tell me why! What is that you want?"

"I…I.."

"TELL ME …YOUR…NAME!"

"DON!-NA! NO!-BLE! Do ya want me to get a pen and spell it out?"

"Hmm…solid Donna impression. _A_ for effort. But sadly for you, I know a bit about transformative identify thievery."

Donna sniffed, her eyes tearing up. "Doctor, I…"

"And you know my name, too? Oh –" He lowered the screwdriver for a moment to offer up a highly sarcastic round-of applause. "Brilliant! How very impressive."

"Doctor." She grabbed hold of his screwdriver, and successfully forced him to lower it. Then, she looked him straight into the eyes, unblinking. "Please." It was more breath than speech.

"Oh." His face shifted – every feature dropped. "Oh." He held a gentle hand up to her forehead.

She nodded, too confused and head-ached to think up a witty retort.

"It _is_ you?"

"Apparently."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Oh. Sorry about that. Donna Noble, I am so sorry. Are you alright?"

"I…I.."

But the Doctor had already turned his attention to the other "Donna." He stretched his body across the entire table - till he was lying stomach-down on it – and aimed the screwdriver at her (its?) face.

"Name yourself! You've been fooling me for some time now it seems, but that ends TODAY. I demand you tell me who you are!"

The Doctor only received a guffawing laugh in response. Now Donna was convinced it was an alien; she hadn't known her vocal chords were capable of guffawing.

"I'm warning you; I'm armed," said the Doctor.

Another mini-guffaw. "Yeah? What with? Water pistol?"

The Doctor's mouth twitched and Donna spoke up.

"But I have something you won't want to mess with," she fibbed, even reaching into her pockets.

"Oh yeah? Use your robe's terrycloth tie as a whip?"

Donna nearly turned the color of her hair.

"Boy, I knew this would be fun!" The woman clapped her hands together, and bowled over laughing. Her words came out in spurts, as she gasped for air, and the diner's drink glasses nearly shook with the intensity of her hysterics. "No, no – go on! Ask me more questions! Guess – guess, which planet I'm from! Really, I'd love to hear it. Go on, do your Doctor-ifying things, _pretty boy_."

The Doctor had slowly been turning four shades paler during her little speech, and once complete, he retraced the sonic screwdriver, and slumped back into his seat. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Donna. "She's already very good. Don't let her hear any more of your voice. "

Donna nodded, and then did something she was no expert at – she whispered. "So, you're just going to let her stay like that? In…inside me?" She didn't love the idea of some alien from who-knows-where intimately knowing her body.

" 'Course not. We'll just –," He reached for his empty drink glass.

"What? Order a milkshake to drown her – _it_ - in?"

The Doctor ignored the question. "Tell me how you got here."

Donna blinked. "Well…I -"

"What happened? When did you last see me? This is important, so very very important. Did someone kidnap you? When might she have gotten a chance to copy your DNA? Tell me everything."

"I…"

The other Donna slid down into the booth's facing seat. "An angel." Her features had softened.

" Excuse me?", both Donna and the Doctor responded.

"I was looking at a stone angel…in the hotel. And then, I was here. Err, I mean there." She pointed outside.

The Doctor's mouth formed into a perfect _O_.

"I had no idea how, or what had happened, until you explained it right –"

"Now?" said the Doctor.

"Yup-p."

Donna leaned cautiously into the Doctor's ear. "Do I still have to whisper?"

He shook his head, and continued to stare in awe at the Donna across from him "No…no, I don't believe you do," he spoke sideways.

"Good. Then tell why we're taking our sweet little time to calmly explain things to…THAT?" She thrust a hand across the table.

The other Donna leaned forward and promptly bonked Donna on the head. "Just listen."

The Doctor took a deep breath - double the air intake reserved for dealing for just one Donna. "That wasn't just an angel statue. It was a weeping angel. Part of a whole species. They're quantum-locked. As long as another living being looks at it, it's just stone. But, when you look away, even if you just…"

His voice trailed off, as he studied the other Donna. "Well, you obviously already know all this. Why don't you explain it? It'll make more sense to her…coming from you."

The other Donna nodded. "That's right. I do explain it." She leaned forward to her double. "The TARDIS isn't the only thing that can bring you back in time. You blinked, so that angel in the hotel attacked. Sent you here. 1959. Hollywood. Luckily, in two weeks time, you'll have an intense craving for a milkshake."

Donna's head screamed "WHAT?" but she found that her mouth and tongue wouldn't budge.

The other Donna pushed Donna's spoon closer to her. "A few scoops of mint chocolate will loosen it up. The ice cream is delicious here." She winked, quite exaggeratedly.

Donna squirmed. "Did I just…_wink_?"

"Yes…yes, I believe you did." The Doctor was equally fascinated.

"Oh my."

"Only did it 'cause I saw it," explained other-Donna. "Amused me, too. Obviously."

"NAMES," the Doctor announced.

"Excuse me?" said the Donna to his left.

"Names. I can't call you both 'Donna'. How about your middle name? We'll use that for one of you."

"Don't have one," responded both women.

"Don't…don't have one?" the Doctor's voice sounded like he'd just sucked a helium balloon. "How can you not have a middle name? What kind of rubbish is that? All humans have middle names…"

"Thank you for the lesson on proper names–" the Donna across from him made air-quotes " 'the Doctor'."

"Okay. Fine. I'll give you a name then – Hermione."

"I thought it was pronounced Her-me-one?'"

"No. Her-MY-oh-Knee. What? It's a brilliant name. Wizard, actually."

"But –" argued Hermione.

"Soooo-ah, before we continue, let's _not _continue. This could be bad. Very, very bad. It's already a Paradox and –"

"Don'tcha mean a _pair'o'Donnas…_Doc?" Hermione sounded smug.

"No." His face showed no humor. "We need to get you -" he turned to Donna " - back on the TARDIS and back to me NOW." But then he smiled. "I'm sure I'm missing you."

"Yeah, well, you probably haven't noticed I'm gone. You sauntered off to some magical diamond bus tour."

"Oh." His face resumed its pale shade. "Right. That."

"Annnd," began Hermione, "she'll be alright. See Exhibit A," she pointed at herself. "All. Right." She flattened out a napkin for the Doctor. "Now hush up and enjoy your chips."

"Nope, we're leaving," he threw the napkin back at her, and scooted his body, forcing Donna to slide over.

"Milkshakes? Fries? Ice cream?" A perky, triple D-ed waitress appeared, holding all three items.

"Wrong table. We didn't order yet." The Doctor continued scooting over.

"Well, one of your dates did earlier…at the bar." She pointed at Hermione, set the food on the table, and roller-skated away.

"Be such a shame for all the food to go to waste," said Hermione. "Let's just enjoy one meal together. Pleeeease?" She gave the Doctor her best puppy-dog eyes, which – her counterpart realized – didn't quite suit her face.

"Yes, please!" she chimed in. Mint chocolate chip ice cream truly had an extraordinary power over her instincts.

"Please."

"Please."

"Please."

"Please."

It became a duet-of-the-Donnas for another half-minute. One Donna even threw in a "por favor." The Doctor melted lower and lower into the booth, tightly covering his ears.

"And one last _please_ till he relents," said Hermione, practically singing. "You may do the honors."

Donna tossed the Doctor's napkin back into his lap and whispered the magic word.

But that just made the Doctor's eyes stiffen. Both Donnas recognized his  
"serious Doctor-y business" face. He jumped up out of his seat, and licked the entire rim of the strawberry milkshake. "Less appetizing now, isn't it? Alien saliva all over it."

"Meh," said Hermione, "I've actually gotten ov – hey!"

The Doctor had seized the ice cream bowl and was pouring it all into his mouth – without a spoon. Half of the melted green dairy ended up on his face, but he quickly wiped it off with his crumbled napkin.

Both Donnas nearly turned the shade of the dessert. "You're like a stubborn infant," said Donna.

"Shall we get the baby his bwottle and lie him down for a nap?" chimed Hermione.

"We _need_ to get back to that angel. Every single person at that hotel is in serious danger and –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Calm down, it all works out. You _do _go back and save the day, but first…we savor a nice dessert. NOW -" Hermione pointed a firm finger at the booth. "Sit. Back. Down. Doc-tor."

"Nope, sorry. We can lounge around – just the _two_ of us – and lick up frozen things some other time." He grabbed the strawberry milkshake. "Now, I don't like strawberry, but –" He held the drink over Donna's head. "- I'm not afraid to use it."

Hermione gasped. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

"No…"

"Oh yes!"

"Doctor, please – you're scaring me. This…this didn't happen the last time. You're supposed to…to be persuaded by the double Nobles. Us super-duper temps."

"Yeah? Well, good thing it's happening now!" With a loud _ting_, he set the glass back down and successfully bumped Donna out of the booth. He stole her hand and yanked her forward a half a meter.

But suddenly, a man was blocking their way. A man wearing the diner's staff uniform, holding a tray with more milkshakes, and wearing waayyy too much hair gel.

"Hey, you were –" began Donna.

"Why hullo there, sugar cakes. I brought you something to suck on."

"Yeah? Well, screw you." She leaned in to the Doctor, "Do something with your sonic."

"What? Why? Who is he?"

"Yeah, who is he?" Hermione demanded.

"You don't remember him?" said Donna. "From the alley? The creep who greeted us?"

"No…no one was in the alley…"

"Noooo. This guy was."

"Nooooooo –"

"Yeeeeessss –"

"NOT NOW, DONNAS!" The Doctor seized both their hands and pulled. "Run."

The threesome charged foreword, and Donna noticed that everyone in the diner was staring at them. But, they weren't just staring, (shushing, like before) they were licking their lips and holding kitchen items above their heads – glass, utensils, even a few giant curly straws – ready to throw. Noticing this too, the Doctor shouted thinks like "TARDIS!", "Kitchen!", "Hurry!" and "Ice cream taste-iosis syndrome!"

They turned a sharp corner into the kitchen, where the TARDIS was parked between a flashy neon jukebox and a huge sign advertising the "benefits" of cigars.

The threesome bolted straight for the blue box. Donna jumped and landed inside it, but caught sight of Señor Hair Gel tossing a bowl full 'o ice cream at the Doctor, while her future self shrieked about how "this never happened!"

And then, everything in Donna's world turned bright yellow, felt frigid and tasted like artificial banana.


	4. Chapter 3

Donna laid sprawled facedown on the grille floor of the TARDIS. Though the peculiar angle of her head didn't allow her vocal chords to function properly, she heard a replica of her voice let out a strange yelping noise, followed by several sets of footsteps, a soft _thud_, shattering glass and finally, bones hitting tile. The pacing and pitch of each sound seemed quite urgent, though the volume was quite low.

After a brief silence, an authoritative and angry voice called out, "ZON MICK ID!"

What alien species was _that_? Not a Sontaran. Certainly not an Ood or an Adipose. Donna used a finger to clean out her left frozen-dessert-filled ear.

"ZONNAS - ZON MICK TA MICE MEAM!" Oh. Just a too-skinny Time Lord, with a rather chipmunk-y pitched voice.

Donna clawed her fingers into the TARDIS grille holes, and used her arm muscles to lift her head up a few inches. "WHAT?" she shouted back, followed by an echo of the same voice and question.

"DON'T MICK ID!" shouted the Doctor.

She poked a finger into her right ear, and then took a tiny lick. Hmm. Banana. Probably a milkshake. Or maybe ice cream. Or frozen yogurt. "DON'T WHAT?" she asked. Once again the question was echoed by her future-self half-a-second later.

"DON'T LICK THE ICE CREAM!"

Oh.

Donna used both her palms like windshield wipers to de-banana-ify her vision. She looked to her right – TARDIS controls. She looked to her left – TARIDS doors, closed.

She stood up, grabbed hold of said double doors and yanked them open.

Well, at least she tried to do so. Once…twice….three times, she gave the double doors a good 'ol yankin'. But they refused to open. And all the while, Donna could hear her possibly-future-(but not if this is a paradox – bloody hell, this was confusing; would this destroy the universe?) self bickering with the Doctor.

She knocked on the blue wood. Four times. "It won't open! And why shouldn't I lick it?"

She could hear the argument stop, followed by the slippery sound of four feet scrambling to walk, and a key being turned in the lock.

The TARDIS doors finally opened, and the Doctor's face appeared, covered almost entirely in off-white liquid with tiny black flecks. He looked annoyed at Donna. "You licked it, too?" He shook his head, unsurprised, and entered the TARDIS, followed by the other Donna – whose face was covered in light blue cream.

Peering a bit into the kitchen, Donna could see _Señor_ Hair Gel passed out on the tile, covered in cherries, bananas, hot fudge and whipped cream - an unconscious human (or alien?) banana split.

At least, he had appeared unconscious. She didn't even blink, but suddenly he was standing fully erect, and heading straight for the TARDIS - limbs stretched out and eyes devoid of emotion. He was now a zombie dessert. And not one Donna particularly cared to indulge in.

"Hasta la vista, Banana-head!" she bellowed, slamming the door.

But, a hand got caught in said _slam_. The rest of the man's body was locked out and unseen, but there was still a living hand, cut off just above the wrist. It wiggled its fingers and rotated its wrist in a full circle, wildly grasping at the air. It was covered in dark brownish sauce, sprinkles and mushy banana bits.

"Hand!" Donna stepped back a few feet. "Doctor, there's a…it's a…there's a hand!" She whipped her head around to find the Doctor at the center console, fiddling with some TARDIS controls. Her double stood be his side, also staring in awe at the thrashing limb.

The Doctor didn't look up. "Yes, Donna, I know. The hand's mine. But it's safe in a jar. Long story…"

"Huh? What'd ya mean a jar?"

"Wellll, it preserves the excessive regenerative bio-matching ener – Oh!" He decided to look up. "_That_ hand. Right. Hmm." He tugged at his ear for a few seconds. "Yeah, just leave it. Allons-y!"

Donna staggered forwards a meter, unbalanced by the jerk of the TARDIS dematerializing. _Thump_. The hand crashed down to the floor, finally dead.

"Ha!" Future Donna called out triumphantly.

"Ha!" Donna agreed.

"Oi!" the Doctor corrected.

_Oh. Uh oh._

Donna looked at the hand again. Its pinky twitched. Then its thumb jiggled. And its middle finger made a motion that could accurately be described as a _twiggle_…or some other synonym for wiggle, waggle, squirm or twist. Next, the entire hand stood up and started daring about on an unpredictable jagged course, using its fingers as legs.

Both Donnas jumped up and raced around the consol room, throwing their hands in the air and shrieking out _Oi_s.

"Just step on it," the Doctor instructed, sounding rather bored.

"What – like a cockroach?" asked the Donna earlier designated _Hermione_.

"Yes!"

"_You_ do it!" Donna urged her future self. "If it kills you, maybe I can just learn what went wrong and I can correct it when I'm you. If it kills me, were both dead."

"Oi! What makes you think you'll be braver in thirteen days?"

"Stop bickering. Just…do it." Neither Donna had to look at the Doctor to know that he was rolling his eyes. "Use the sole of your foot to stomp down hard. It's not going to kill you. Promise."

Hermione switched direction mid-run and chased after the loopy limb, until her foot hovered a few centimeters above it. She closed her eyes and stomped. _Crunch. _She successfully hit the pinky, fracturing its bone. The other fingers also stopped moving. She stomped on the open palm again. And again. And again. _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. _"Hey, this is kind of fun!"

"Joy," the other Donna responded dryly and walked over to the Doctor. "Now mind explaining why I shouldn't have licked the ice cream, Space Man?"

"Oh yes, that. What flavor did you both have?"

"Banana," Donna answered.

"Something sweet. Birthday cake batter, maybe," Hermione answered, abandoning the hand stampede to join the group.

"Ah. Hmm," was the Doctor's super scientific response.

"_Ah. Hmm_ – WHAT?" asked both Donnas.

"I'm not sure, actually. See, that wasn't just any present-century Earth milk-and-cream connection. Oh no. That was Taste-iosis ice cream, or milkshakes made with it. Taste it - even just lick it - and the specific flavor gets inside either your state of mind or events in you personal timeline for the next twenty-four hours, affecting your mood. For example, I had vanilla bean. Fortunately, I didn't lick it. Which is good, because that would have been the worst – the very, very worst – flavor for me."

"Why? What does vanilla do?" Hermione asked.

"Wellll, quite simply – I would have a very _vanilla_ day: boring, dull, dreary, lackluster blah, meh, long line of _Z_s. Not exactly how I like to live."

"And banana?" Donna asked, "I had banana. What does that mean?"

"Wellll, I'm not entirely comfortable predicting. Give banana flavor to a male humanoid, and blood flow will immediately swell in the corpora cavernosa, enlarging and stiffening his erectile organ."

"An erection? The milkshake…would give a man a lasting erection?"

"A one-thousand-four-hundred-and-forty minute one, yes. But I don't believe it'll have any effect on a woman. Maybe you'll just act even more like a stupid ape – Oh!" He covered his mouth. "So, sorry. I haven't called humans that in a while – don't know what got into me. And you, Donna," he nodded at Hermione, "what flavor did you say you had?"

"I think it was birthday cake batter."

"Huh. Yeah, that's another tricky one." The Doctor ran multiple fingers through his vanilla ice-creamed hair. "There's no chance you're pregnant, is there?"

"No," both Donna responded firmly.

"Good. That's…that's good. Because see, in a pregnant female – no matter how many months along she is, even if it's been mere minutes since fertilization – she'll go into labor instantly. She'll literally have a _birth_ day. But since you're not…uh, with child…it'll probably just feel like a regular birthday. How do you normally feel on your birthday?"

"Cranky," answered one Donna.

"Old," answered another.

"Drunk," both concluded.

"Welllll then, good thing I don't care liquor on board," the Doctor responded.

"But Doctor, who was _he_?" She nodded towards the hand. "And can I please have a towel already?"

"I _think_ he was part of The Trickster's Brigade. Annnd –" he ran into the depths of the TARDIS and returned a minute later, with a piece of multi-colored knitwear. "Here." He flung it at Donna, and it landed in a bundle atop her face. "Share it with yourself."

Donna picked one end off of her chin and the whole thing quickly unraveled. It was ridiculously long, plus too thin and the wrong material to be a normal towel. It was more like a –

"Scarf? You gave me a scarf?"

"Sorry," the Doctor replied, back tinkering with the controls. "Quickest drying device I could grab. We're almost landing."

"And the man? The hand man?" Hermione prompted, after wiping herself clean.

"Oh yes. Right. Member of the Trickster's Brigade, I believe. Or, at least an associate. He was trying to disrupt your life with the Taste-iosis; change how your day was meant to go about. He developed a male form by borrowing characteristics from various Hollywood celebrities that he thought a woman of your age and background might be charmed by."

"Right. Right. Of course. Trickter's Brigade," Donna nodded along, "But oh, just one small tiny-tiny question remaining – why'd he want to give me a twenty-four hour erection and a newborn baby?"

"I mean, I've dated some real nutters." Hermione added, "Lance, for example, but –"

"Wellll, I imagine those weren't the original flavors meant for you. Things got a bit complicated in our chase. Chocolate might have been Plan A – Devil's Food flavor. Or perhaps Rocky Road – which would have sprained your ankle or torn a ligament. Or…oh boy, orange sorbet – wellll, let's just say 'orange you glad' you didn't lick _that_…"

"And the angels - we're they like, working with this 'Trickster' too?" Donna wondered.

"No, no. They're not like Charlie's Angels, Donna. They don't 'work' _with_ or _for _anyone. But the Trickster likely too advantage of their presence to complicate things further. Combined, they were able to create a paradox. An event could occur for you –," he pointed to the younger Donna, "that didn't happen to her –," he pointed to the slightly older version, "when the angel first sent you-her back to the 1950s." He looked around the room, like a professor running low on patience. "We clear now?"

"As mud," both Donnas answered.

"Good. Soooo-ah!" _Thud._ "We're here. Back on Midnight. Hopefully just before the angel attacked you."


	5. Chapter 4

The Doctor leaped over to the TARDIS double doors and yanked them open.

Both Donnas followed, peering out behind opposite sides of the Doctor's shoulders. They were in another kitchen, though this one looked quite _different_. Transparent refrigerators and freezers lined the walls, along with several shiny black circular objects floating in mid-air - which the Doctor explained were twenty-seventh century automatic sandwich makers, cereal mixers and "omelette-ify-ers."

A sleek robot dressed as a French maid rolled forward on hot pink wheels. "Good afternoon, Sir." Her knees bent into a curtsy. "Are you and your wives here for the special lunch buffet?"

The threesome exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Oh no, we're not – we're not a," the Donnas began.

"Ménage à trios. Or…or…any configuration of a couple," the Doctor finished.

"My apologizes, Sir and Misses," said the promiscuous android. "May I inquire into the nature of your presence?"

The Doctor flashed a piece of sonic paper. "Professor John Smith, and his interns. Museum inspectors."

"Yes, sir. The museum is located straight through the kitchen to the left, through the lobby, and to the second right." The robot blew them a kiss as she rolled away, leaving behind an offensively strong scent of perfume.

The Doctor leaned down and swiped off his trainers and socks.

"Oi! Your stinky feet aren't any better," the Donna formerly-known-as-Hermione pointed out.

"No, no, I'm not doing it for the scent. It's for the noise. The third Donna – the one about to see the angel – can't know we're here. Take your shoes off, too."

They obeyed, chucking their footwear into the TARDIS. The group then followed the robot's instructions and hid behind a corner of the tiny art exhibit. After about a minute, the third Donna appeared from the opposite side, just beginning to examine the unusual art pieces.

"So, how do you plan on getting rid of the angel without her seeing us?" Donna whispered.

"Well, we're going in _after _she blinks."

"WHAT? We're just going to sit back and let her – I mean, me – get attacked?"

"Yup-p."

Both Donnas slapped his head as quietly as possible.

"What? you're safe now," the Doctor explained. "So while this version of you will have to live through the exact same thing with the hand and the ice cream and all, she'll be safe. Just like you are now." He took one of each of their hands and squeezed, reassuringly. "Understand?"

The Donnas nodded.

"And _how_ exactly do you plan on getting rid of the angel?" the younger Donna asked.

"Not sure. Hermione? You saw me do it before …" '

"No I didn't."

He looked at her the way Donna had first looked at an Ood – utterly perplexed.

"You told me to stay in the TARDIS, and never explained."

"Oh. Well then. I guess you should head back to the TARDIS," the Doctor calmly instructed.

"Excuse me?"

"Go. Back. To. The. TARDIS."

Hermione let out an exaggerated (albeit silent) sigh, but let go of the Doctor's hand and walked back down the hall.

"Me too, Doctor?" Donna asked.

"No, stay here. The me that's on the Midnight tour bus might be back soon. Can't risk not having a Donna here to greet him. He…I…I needed her…you after."

Donna nodded, pretending to not be thrown off by the intense discomfort in the Doctor's voice.

"Alright, get ready to move." The Doctor directed her attention to the exhibit hall, where another Donna was examining the abs on the scratch-and-sniff Jude Law (the XXXVII) wax figure. An angel stood just a few feet behind.

"We need to look away for a minute though, Donna. The angel will just stay stone – unmoving – if _any _living eyes are upon it."

Donna squeezed the Doctor's hand harder, and then squeezed her eyes shut, too.

The Doctor whispered a countdown of thirty seconds, before the pair opened all four eyes and looked down the hall.

The other Donna had vanished. But, the angel stood just a few feet in front of them now, with its arms in attack position and its tongue stuck menacingly out.

They stared back, not blinking. Donna barely bothered to breathe.

"Very good, just keep looking. You're doing wonderful," the Doctor whispered. "Just stay calm. I'm thinking up something…something clever."

"Hey!" an enthusiastic voice called out behind them, "I figured it out! I know what to do!"

It was the Donna formerly banished to the TARDIS. "I'll talk to her," the Doctor whispered into Donna's ear.

"Just don't stop looking at it. Don't even blink." He released her hand and stepped away.

_Okay. Okay. I can do this, _Donna thought to herself, allowing one breath to escape.

She used to be a pro at staring competitions. As a kid, she'd always win against her best mate Rachel. _Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. _Donna repeated the name in her head, envisioning the angel's hair turning into several brunette braids, complete with bright green ribbons. She even imagined up dental braces for its teeth, just like the ones Rachel wore.

_Just don't blink. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't -_

Donna felt a tear bumbling up to the surface of her left eye, begging to be blinked out.

_Don't blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't Blink. Rachel. Don't. Rachel. Don't -_

Apparently, Donna wouldn't be wining any staring competitions as a full-grown adult. In an instant, her world turned black.

She felt her body sprawled across the ground – even though she hadn't fallen. And the ground wasn't the hotel's tile floor either; it felt itchy - probably grass. She listened, too terrified to open her eyes. There was a bit of rustling through the grass. Footsteps.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, praying to just disappear into the grass, so that no one could find her.

Just one more footstep. Then silence.

_Thank goodness_. Maybe the person (alien? Probably another alien) decided to ignore her

Then Donna felt a hand on her back. "Are you okay?"

Donna ignored the man's voice, but he just repeated the question a moment later. So, she reluctantly opened her eyes.

Great. It was another greeter with a rather remarkable hairstyle.

But this man was far too unusual looking to be a celebrity – more like a university student playing dress up in his elderly professor's clothing. Donna racked her brain for an historical era in which twenty-something year olds wore tweed jackets with elbow patches, light pink dress shirts, bowties and even – were those braces she spotted underneath the hideous jacket? Definitely not the 1990s, nor the 80s, nor the 70s, nor the -

"Are you okay there?" he asked once more, brushing some brunette fringe away to reveal light green eyes.

Donna put a hand to her skull and felt around. Still no unusual bumps. "Yes, yes. I'm fine." She pulled her knees in and propelled the rest of her body up by her elbows, ready to stand.

But Little Professor shoved his giant head forward, several inches into her personal space, and looked deeply into her eyes, examining the pupils. "Actually, I believe you're a bit less than 'fine.' No, no - I think we need to get you to a doctor."


	6. Chapter 5

"Uh…no, um..."

The man – just a boy really – was gazing at Donna with such genuine concern and curiosity, (maybe even mixed with a bit of sadness?) that she was thrown completely off-balance and found her throat constricting.

"No really. I...I don't need to go to the hospital. I'll be perfectly fine." She wanted to trust him, but then again, aliens could be good actors, right? She couldn't risk riding in his car (or UFO or flying unicycle or Martian-mobile or whatever vehicle his species used for transport) and get attacked by more magical mood-altering desserts. She made a move to stand up, but the stranger stopped her by pushing his face even closer to her own.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, moving his hands behind his back.

"Um…none."

"Good. And now?" He didn't move.

"None."

"Magnificent! Ready to stand on up?"

He offered his hand, and Donna reluctantly accepted it. The boy took a polite step back, and she was finally able to take in her newest surroundings. She had indeed been lying on grass – a fresh, vibrant green variety, underneath an equally bright blue sky and a full orange sun. A few meters over, children were happily chasing each other through sand, riding down slides and bouncing on swings. Parents sat on nearby benches, reading books or chatting with one another. The scenery was absolutely idyllic, almost suspiciously so.

Donna decided to take an inventory of the children: a few blond girls, some blond boys, several brunettes of each gender, and even one or two gingers. And the clothing? Dresses, skirts, jumpers, slacks – in a variety of colours. Okay, good. The kids weren't all identical, so she wasn't back in the library.

She turned to the miniature professor. Maybe he was tutoring one of the children? He certainly wasn't old enough to be a parent. Hopefully he wasn't a pervert. "Where are we? I…I'm lost."

"I bet you are!" He sounded oddly joyful and singsong-y. "We're in Dove Hill Park, South-Western Sydney, Australia. Earth."

"Earth? Why'd you specify Earth? I'm not _that_ lost." Well okay, she was indeed that misplaced, but why would he answer so specifically?

PhD Junior didn't respond, so Donna tried another tactic. "And what -?"

"2017. It's the year 2017."

_Right. _Donna slowly took a step away. The boy was far too helpful to be human. "Well, thanks but I -"

"I saw a man wearing a pinstripe suit with trainers a few blocks back…" He swept aside his fringe again. "Quite an unusual fashion choice. Just thought I'd mention…be a good conversation-starter. "

Donna thought about pointing out that his bowtie and grandpa coat weren't exactly in vogue either, but decided against it. "Oh? A suit with trainers? Well, I think I'd better take a look at him myself then. I'm, uh, intrigued by style trends. Which way did you say he was?"

He pointed to her left. "But he's at Frannie's coffee shop now though…I'm guessing." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here, I just happened to be carrying a city map. Frannie's is –" He drew out a pen and wrote on it, " - circled. Just a few blocks east."

Donna accepted the map and decided to offer a smile, before walking away. She took a few long strides to her left, before getting a strong urge to turn back around. "I'm sorry – do I know you?"

The boy straightened his back, and something in his eyes made Donna reconsider her judgment of his young age. "No, I'm afraid not." He sniffed. "Go along then." He waved her away.

"Well, what's your name?" If he was another time traveler, Donna should probably alert the Doctor.

The man-boy hesitated a bit too long before answering, though he sounded proud of his name. "Jackson. I'm Jackson Lake. And yourself?"

"Donna. Donna…Smith." Best not reveal too much.

"Lovely talking to you, Donna." He smiled. "Smith. And good luck."

Donna followed the map, which were hand-drawn and shockingly simplistic, almost as if the man-boy had created it just for her. She was just a block away from the destination, before she began to wonder how the stranger had known she needed good luck.

And she was indeed lucky. Entering Frannie's Coffee Shop, she spotted a pair of cream-coloured trainers attached to a pair of brown pinstripe trousers right away. He was seated alone at a back corner table with a small mug, wearing black specs and studying a newspaper intently.

Donna crept up silently behind the Doctor and tapped him on the shoulder. "Couldn't not blink either, huh, Smartian?" Smart Martian – that nickname sounded like a keeper.

The Doctor twisted around and his entire body jolted up several inches, causing the table to violently tilt and knock over his tea. His eyes widened to a nearly impossible size (at least for a human, maybe not Time Lords) and his mouth became a perfect oval. "You remembered?" He sounded shocked and terrified.

"About 'not blinking'? 'Course I remembered. But it's not so easy. Obviously…" She pointed back at him.

His eye size didn't decrease. "You…you know who I am?"

"Yes, yes, for goodness sakes. I don't have a brain injury. I'm fine." She grabbed his arm. "Now come on', I don't know what you're sitting here all calmly for, drinking a cuppa, but let's figure out how to get back to the hotel."

She gave his arm a yank, and the Doctor turned paler.

_Oh, well isn't that wizard._ Donna realized that this might be some early time for the Time Lord, before he'd met her. With her yelling and familiar attitude towards him, perhaps he thought she was a complete nutter. Maybe Donna was even invading on a lunch date between the Doctor and Rose. At any rate, this wasn't the same Doctor she'd last seen at the hotel; she suddenly remembered that he'd been wearing a white1950s style leather jacket then, while now it was back to the usual brown pinstripes.

Donna released the Doctor's arm and calmly took the vacant seat opposite him. "Do _you_…you know how _I_ am?"

The Doctor finally released a huge, joyful smile and relaxed his shoulders. "Donna. Donna Noble. No middle name. Best temp in all of Cheswick. Hello!" He beamed at her and waved.

She waved sarcastically back. "Hi there."

"So you just got touched by an angel, huh? Oh, that sounds awfully poetic, doesn't it? 'Touched by angel'? Much preferable to 'attacked by an ancient morbid species and robbed of your stable relationship to your own time stream', isn't it? Wellll, no worries either way. I'll get you back to me. No problemo! Molto Bene!"

Now it was Donna's mouth that turned into an oval. "So you didn't get 'touched' too? I'm speaking…to a future you?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yup-p."

"Well, you still don't look any older. Still could use some fattening up, eat a sandwich or biscuit every once in a while."

The Doctor snorted. "Oh, good 'ol Donna Noble."

"Oi, and where am I? I get to see two of my future selves in the same day!" She glanced around the café, searching for the back of her own head. "Lemme guess: I'm using the loo again?"

The Doctor's eyes glazed over and he took a long, slow sip of his drink – though Donna wasn't sure if there was actually any liquid left in the mug. He set it back down and his mouth opened and closed, like a fish.

Donna's blood turned cold as she came to a dreadful conclusion. "So, she was right then. That River woman? I'm no longer with you, am I?"

"NO." The Doctor answered firmly and immediately, looking Donna straight in the eyes. "You're just…away right now. I dropped you off in Cheswick for the weekend. Visiting your mum and granddad. You're safe, Donna." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Perfectly safe. I promise."

"You're lying." Donna could tell. She always could.

"Am not!" He sounded like a toddler, denying that he was smelly.

"Doctor." She gave him her best 'tell me the truth' look.

He reached for her hand. "You're safe. Really, Donna. You are. Safe and happy."

"But not with you?"

"Not at the moment, no."

He had avoided Donna's eyes and while that was far from a satisfying answer, the Doctor clearly didn't want to elaborate. And perhaps he wasn't hiding anything after all. Maybe in the future he would get much better at hiding his lies from her, especially as they spent more and more time together. Yes, Donna tried to convince herself that was the case, and that her future self had indeed just popped home for the weekend.

She snatched the last sip of the Doctor's tea. "So, am I fat?"

"Excuse me?"

"In the future. Did I gain weight? Any grey hair? Wrinkles? Spill it, Crystal Ball."

He smirked. "You're beautiful."

The way that he said it, so genuine and so simple, without even making fun of the vain question – Donna believed him. And it made her blush. She really wanted to hold on to that confident feeling for a few more minutes, but realized something more vital. "I guess we need to run off and do something about that angel again, huh?"

"Right. Yes. Yes. That." The Doctor's head bobbed along slowly. "The Angel. Of course. Yeah. Except! Wellll, I have a space-time capsule, so there really is no need to rush off straightaway, is there?"

"Suppose not." Okay, something was definitely off. Taking his time – even when he had all of it in the universe – wasn't exactly the Doctor's usual stance. But for once, Donna was too comfortable to bother arguing.

"Soooo-ah, can I order you a caffeinated beverage? Hot chocolate? Tea? Coffee? Iced Coffee? Mocha? Latte? Iced la -?"

"I'll just get a water myself, Doctor, thanks."

After retrieving her H20, Donna and the Doctor sat around for over an hour and simply talked. The Doctor asked her about her childhood and her roles as a temp, her relationship with her family and friends, her free-time hobbies and interests, and her goals in life. To an outsider, it might have seemed like a romantic date, but it really just felt like a nature part of their evolving friendship. When Donna said that her goal in life was now to travel the universe with him - forever, the Doctor stopped asking questions.

But after an uncomfortable silent minute, he snapped right out of his dreamy state. And once he started talking again, it was a long scientific ramble about the nature of time, during which Donna couldn't get a word in edgewise. Then, he paused again, eyes glazing over like before. But once out of it, came another scientific ramble about…well, frankly, Donna couldn't keep up with any of it, but the Doctor just seem so delighted to continue speaking, that she didn't interrupt.

The cycle (of talking his throat off and staring at Donna like she was one of the Seven Wonders of the World) continued another few times, punctuated by more personal inquiries into Donna's life.

The Doctor peppered in a few rather unusual and specific questions, too: Did she ever play the lottery? (Rarely.) If she could name a galaxy – anything, any name at all – what would she name it? (Alison, after Wilf's cousin who died as an infant.) Did she vote for Harriet Jones? Harold Saxon? (Neither. She had the flu on that first voting day, and was hung-over on the second.)

Donna tried to get the Doctor to open about his own childhood and family, but he was quite the expert at dodging those inquiries.

Finally, after another long silence, he jumped up out of his chair and shouted "the angel!", as if he had only just remembered. He grabbed Donna's hand, whispered "run!" and they raced off into the kitchen, where the TARDIS awaited.

Once inside the ship, the Doctor pulled on a few levers, sat down on the jump seat, turned to Donna and said, "Donna Noble, let's get you back to where you belong."

"To you?"

The Doctor smiled one of his widest smiles yet. "To me."

* * *

A/N: I didn't want to spell it out within the story itself, but just in case anyone is confused: this takes place for the 10th doctor after _The Waters of Mars_, but before _The End of Time_.


	7. Chapter 6

Meanwhile, and six Earth centuries later, Donna reluctantly headed back to the TARDIS in the Midnight hotel's kitchen. After politely declining the French Maid robot's offer to sample the "fresh, white chocolate-covered salmon" (that evening's main course), she found the ship quite easily – right where the Doctor had parked it minutes earlier.

The only trouble was that it seemed to have cloned itself. Not one, but two identical blue London police call boxes sat amongst the eccentric twenty-seventh century appliances. Double the TARDISes. Or was it _TARDi_? She considered what the plural form might be for a moment, before cautiously knocking on the left one's doors.

No response.

She pressed an ear against it, and heard nothing, so she knocked on the right one's doors.

Still no response.

So, she decided to give it the ear-press treatment, and heard…

_Swish_. The doors swung open and Donna collapsed inwards to someone's arms, causing both of them to tumble over onto the floor, with Donna lying on top. She let out an involuntary yelp, and felt the body underneath shake with laughter.

"Why hello there, Donna Noble!" said the Doctor, patting her on the back. "Good to see you, too! Brilliant, in fact. Wellll, it's brilliant to see you again, I suppose. But not to straddle you so much. You mind getting up?"

Donna gladly hopped off, and smoothed out her 1950s-style skirt. "Oi! How'd you get here before me? You can teleport now too, Spaceman?"

Another fit of laughter came from behind them, and Donna noticed the copy of herself standing there in a white robe. She froze. She definitely hadn't stood in that place. In her memories of the events two weeks earlier, she had gone straight back to the TARDIS with her future-self at the Doctor's request. The two of them had waited there – without incident and without the Doctor – until he returned, saying that the angel problem had been fixed.

Donna opened and closed her mouth to speak, when she noticed the Doctor's clothing – back to pinstripes, not the 1950s getup. "Which…when…who? Is this another you?" She held her head. It hurt.

The Doctor placed a gentle hand to her forehead, as if taking her temperature. "Shhh, shhh. It's alright. This is just a temporary personal timeline disturbance anomaly; your memories will compensate for the discrepancies after the immediate past version of  
yourself experiences the exact circumstances post-eventually. So shhhh. It's -"

"Oi, don't you go shushing me." Donna warned him, before turning to herself. "You! Explain this in English."

Her past self (except not really; it couldn't be) looked rather alarmed by the question. "I blinked again. Went to 1917. Australia. Pinstripes here was calmly sipping on a cuppa in a coffeehouse. Had to practically pull his arm to get him to rush back here. And now -"

"THE ARM! Yes, that's it!" The Doctor pulled away from Donna, and with an excited clap, he leapt up and bolted out of the TARDIS.

The Donnas shrugged at each other and followed him immediately out, only to find that (with the exception of with a tuxedoed butler-robot feeding strawberries to the slutty female android) the kitchen was completely empty.

"?" both Donnas said together.

"In here!" The voice came from behind, where the other TARDIS's door was open. They stepped inside and found the Doctor squatted down, cradling a hand. Except it wasn't his own hand; it was the dismembered one, which had belonged to _Señor_ Hair Gel.

"What are -?" Both Donnas asked.

"HUSH IT! I'm working here!" the Doctor didn't look up. He was tapping and wiggling each finger of the hand, poking the veins and examining the fingernails. "It might still be alive."

"Uh, Doctor?" said the Donna wearing a robe, "I know you call yourself  
'_the_ Doctor' and all, but…it doesn't even have a body."

He waved those words away. "Tape. Go get some duct tape. There's a roll in the office."

"And that's where?"

"First right, third left, second on the left, go straight back, under the stairs, past the mirror, it's the seventh door on…oh, nevermind. Nevermind. I'll get it myself when I'm fin…ahhh! Finished! Take a look-see! Come on, both of you."

They leaned down, and saw –

Oh, but it couldn't be.

"But, it can't be," said one of the Donnas.

"Wellll, it can," the Doctor insisted. "Obviously, it can. It is."

The hand was moving again. And it didn't appear the least bit sinister now. Its finger- wiggles were not of the "I want to clutch at your hair and chock you" variety, more of a friendly wave. Still covered in sprinkles and chocolate sauce, it was actually a bit cute. It reminded Donna of the Adipose. But instead of waving at fat, a dessert was waving at her.

"It was simple, really," the Doctor explained, "the Trickster or his associate – not quite sure who exactly, but it doesn't matter – manipulated this alien being into animation to carry out his motives. Once it undeniably failed, it became doormat again. But, me being the brilliant genius that I am, was able to reprogram it with a little, uh...welllll, to use a technical term: jiggery pockery. Sooo-ah, here!" He held up the hand, eager to pass it off to the Donna in the 1950s gear. "Go on, take it. I'll just go get the tape, and then you can bring it to me. I'll still be staring down the angel with you, but just yell. Pretty sure you can handle that bit. Here: catch!"

Already starting to sprint into the TARDIS' depths, the Doctor tossed the hand out with a giant grin, and Donna caught it as enthusiastically as one might catch a ticking bomb or alien fecal matter. Before she had time to exchange bewildered glances with past-herself, the Doctor returned and handed her a strip of bright red duct tape. "Understand what this is for?"

"Tape the hand to the angel's eyes?"

"Yup-p."

"But the hand doesn't have eyes."

"Nope-ah." His next sentence came out in one giant word: "But-it's-still-a-living-organism-that-can-see-things-through-a-different-matter-of-perception." He sighed. "Annnd if you need a better explanation, just ask me. I'm a genius. No need to explain to me what I just explained to you. I'll understand once I see the hand, and then be able to explain it you, as I am right now. Must I explain further? Go now, Donna. HURRY!"

Donna bobbed her head in semi-understanding and turned to leave, but the Doctor grabbed her shoulder, with an urgent "Wait! Wait! WAIT!" and spun her forcefully around. "Blimey, I nearly forgot…"

"What's that, then?"

He gripped her shoulder blades and pulled her in to a half-second hug, offering a "be brilliant" and a single pat on the back. "Alright, that's taken care of." He sniffed.

Donna nodded and turned back again. As she walked out of the TARDIS, she felt the Doctor's eyes on her back, and thought he whispered something like "Piss loo", or maybe "Mixed goe." It sounded most like "Miss you", but she knew that that made equally little sense.

* * *

The Donna still in her terrycloth robe strolled back with the Doctor to the hotel pool, where he said his past-self would soon meet her after his bus tour. He was babbling a bit about the adventures he planned to take her on (meet JK Rowling! Go to the moon - not the planet - Uranus! See thirty-forth century colonized Antartica!) with a rather dreamy look in his eyes. As he was mentioning his favorite era and planet for chocolate milk production, Donna realized something important and cut him off.

"And the cows there sing show tunes while you milk –"

"Doctor. Who's Jackson Pond? I mean Jackson River. Or Lake? Yeah, that one. Who's Jackson Lake? "

That ceased his babbling. His brows scrunched together. "What do you know about him?"

"I met him in 2017 Australia. True nutter of a bloke. He pretended to be just a stranger, but I got the sense that he knew you. Maybe even knew me."

"He was in 2017?"

"Ya, after the angel attacked me. He was there right away. Really weird dresser. I'm guessing he was an alien? Helpful, though. Even gave me a map to where you'd be. Wanna see it?" She reached into her pocket, and handed the drawing to him.

He examined it closely, moving his fingers along the corners and tracing ink lines. Donna even caught him sniffing it. After a flicker of realization in his eyes, a satisfied smile, and a comment of "oh, brilliant!", he handed it back to Donna.

"So, who was he?" she asked.

"No idea."

"Doctor?" She lifted an eyebrow.

"Not a clue in the world. Galaxy, even. Sooo-ah," they had arrived at the pool. "Guess this is goodbye. Need to leave you with me." He smiled again. And –

"Did you just salute me?"

"Right. No. Sorry." He waved instead. "Goodbye, Miss Noble!"

" 'K, bye, Future Spaceman." She settled down on the lounge chair and closed her eyes, feeling exhausted. After several seconds, she felt the Doctor's eyes still lingering on her. "What? I'll see you in a few minutes, said so yourself."

"Right, right, yeah. 'Course."

She heard him shuffle a few feet away, before his voice was right in her ears again.

"But, wellll, I am going to require your hugging services when I return from the bus. And no offense, Donna, but you could use a lesson on the level of pressure you apply during a human-to-Time Lord embrace. So, come on. Stand on up."

She obliged, and the Doctor pulled her in for a tight squeeze, rocking her back and forth a few times. "Oh, Donna Noble. You stay bloody brilliant."

He winked as he pulled back. "Just don't tell me about anything that happened today. Don't. you. dare."

"Yeah, yeah, I know -" She made air quotes. "Spoilers."

"That's right." He half-turned around. "Oh, and Donna? If you _do_ meet that Jackson Lake again, thank him for me, alright? If…if you remember? He'll take care of you."

"Oi, like I need taken care of!"

And with that, the Doctor gave a final smile and walked away.


End file.
